


Given Half The Chance

by dumbledearme



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Heroes & Heroines, Marvel Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbledearme/pseuds/dumbledearme
Summary: Maybe I was shallow, just like other girls. Maybe I liked Tony Stark because he was so great-looking, a billionaire, the name in everybody's lips. But there were other reasons too. The reasons why I loved him. He was so confident, fearless, unlike me. But how could I tell him that when I was so scared? So, so scared he wouldn't say it back?





	Given Half The Chance

**Author's Note:**

> "And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back  
> And given half the chance, would I take any of it back  
> It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone  
> It's always darkest before the dawn."
> 
> Shake it off—Florence & the Machine

It was summer, 1991

I stood in a corner of the waiting room where I could stay hidden from the other's view. I nervously moved my feet around, unsure of what I was doing here. I had hurt another person to be here. I had hurt a human being. I still couldn't believe I'd done that. It was so low, so completely unforgivable, and yet it had given me such a thrill. I felt like a mob boss. Invincible. Like I could get away with anything. 

And if I was being completely honest with myself, I'd say the bitch had it coming.

I wasn't about to give up now anyway. I'd driven a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown New York in order to meet the famous CEO of Stark Enterprise. As the richest and most famous bachelor in America, his time was extraordinarily precious, but he was in great need of an assistant and had agreed to meet a few girls.

I had a pretty good idea why he had a preference for girls. Men. Speaking of which, there was this one guy in the waiting room with us—he was obviously gay and obviously very full of himself since he came all the way here even though the ad specifically asked for girls. But I had to applaud his confidence, the way he carried himself. He looked so sure he stood a chance. Which probably meant he did. Oh God, he was going to get this job. 

I slapped myself mentally for thinking that. Wasn't that exactly what Christine Everhart had said to me in the bathroom? That bitch. I got why she thought she was better than me. But unless you were planning to sleep with her, I doubted she'd make a very good assistant. She wasn't articulated, persuasive, or particularly argumentative. But men did prefer blondes, didn't they? That's why they'd never look at me twice.

Stop it. You got this. You got this!

Stark Enterprise was the biggest building of New York. It was designed by Howard Stark himself so the details in the architecture were enough to make you want to faint. In here, everything looked immaculate. I'd gone so far to feel the urge to take off my shoes when I first came inside. It was the kind of place that made you avoid touching anything because you're a dirty human being and you don't want to leave marks on anything you can't afford. 

"You can go in, now," said the lady behind the desk. Another blonde. She had her hair pulled back into an efficient ponytail, the same look I had gone for, but it had worked much better with her complexion and lack of freckles. Basically she looked like host barbie doll. She smiled at me with perfect white teeth but her eyes were condescending. That look people would get when they had to be polite but actually would just rather tell you to leave. "Second elevator to the left. Last floor, hon." She handed me a visitor pass after I signed the books.

I thanked her and walked over to the elevators. The number of security guards in here was unbelievable. I tried to keep it together but the way they were looking at me was freaking me out. It was like they knew I wasn't supposed to be here. That I didn't belong at all. Soon somebody would yell PHONY/IMPOSTOR, and they guards would come to drag me outside.

When I got to the last floor my heart was hammering so fast I had to close my eyes and sing a lullaby to calm myself. This was my dream. I was only doing what was necessary to achieve it. Was I really to blame? What happened in the bathroom had just been collateral damage.

In his office I could fit my entire house. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there was a huge steel desk, and he was behind it. "Miss Everhart," he read off some paper in his hand. He was tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie. His brown hair was unruly, but the rest of him was serious, professional, intimidating. Except for his eyes. When he looked at me, I distinctively spot amusement in them.

"Mr. Stark," I muttered. Damn it. I mentally scolded myself for my lack of confidence. I strode over and shook his hand. He kept his face serious, but a ghost of a smile lingered there. He motioned toward a chair and I took a sit.

I tried to look professional and intimidating, too, although surely he was doing a much better job at that. I'd prepared a speech. I just needed to remember it. Also, it would be lovely if my mouth worked properly.

"So you're from Utah," he said and then cleared his throat as if he thought that was funny.

"Kansas," I corrected, proudly. 

"Where exactly?"

"Cottonwood Falls."

He was not impressed by that. He glanced down, checking the document in his hands, and from where I was, I could see it was her résumé. Everhart's résumé. That was going to be a problem.

"Uh," I started. "Yeah... I'm not Christine Everhart?" It sounded like a question. Why did it sound like a question?!

He'd been leaning back on his chair, but now he sat forward, his dark eyes searching my face. "Thank god for that. See, I've slept with Christine Everhart. Not that long ago. I was seriously confused."

My heart stopped beating. I held my breath. He was going to call security and have me thrown out of here. Everything I did was for nothing.

"Are you going to tell me your name so I can check your curriculum?"

I sighed in relief. He wasn't going to kick me out. Not yet at least. "Yes. Sorry. I'm Virginia Potts," I said quickly. Stark nodded and searched the pile in front of him until he found my résumé.

"Here it is," he said. "Virginia Potts from Cottonwood Falls. Interesting." He kept reading. I waited. "You're a Brown girl?"

"Through and through."

"Me too," he said. It took me a while to realize he was joking. Yes, I was that nervous. There was a tiny, almost imperceptible smile playing in his lips; I was shocked to noticed that. He looked back down at my résumé. "You worked as an intern for Professor Franklin Storm in the Baxter Foundation and then he sent you to work at Von Doom Industries. That's like—wow."

I smiled, pleased that my efforts were finally rewarding me.

"Aren't you a little, uh, young?" Again, only his eyes betrayed his emotions, watching me with a little curiosity. The rest of his face never changed, never held any interest. He was very hard to read. 

"Well, aren't you a little young to run this empire yourself?" Dang it. The words just came out. That was not how I had planned to start this. Something was missing.

Stark regarded me intently. "This is a company," he pointed out as if he thought I was a complete idiot. "Other people work here. I employ an exceptional team. It's not just me."

I swallowed. That was it. I couldn't remember my speech ergo I had nothing smart to stay about myself. Maybe if he stopped looking at me like that I'd be able to focus. Maybe— 

"I have only one question, Miss Potts," he said, now frowning. "Why did you leave Von Doom to come here?"

Stark waited patiently. I've got only this one shot, I thought to myself. One shot to stand out. Maybe it was time for a little honesty.

"Mr. Stark," I told him. "Not you," I added quickly. "I meant, your father. Mr. Howard Stark. That was dream. That was... That was the kind of guy I wanted to work for. I know I'm too late, but… I've met Victor Von Doom and he wasn't exactly… uh…" I trailed off, shaking my head. This was not going well. "I've always been drawn to Stark Enterprise. It has always been my plan. And I always give one hundred percent of myself into everything I do. And there was no way I could give one hundred percent of myself to someone like Victor Von Doom. I believe in Stark Enterprise and what it stands for in a way that... I want to work for you."

Stark's mouth quirked up; his eyes turned appraisevely. "We invest in manufacturing—"

"I know," I interrupted, trying to sound like I knew things. "You like to know how things work; what makes them tick."

"—but we mostly work with weapons," he finished as if I hadn't spoken at all. "Are you interested in those?"

I took a deep breath. I didn't know what to say to that. He was testing me. I had to prove I deserved this. And I had prepared for this. Hadn't I?

I said the only thing that occurred to me. The only thing I knew to be true. "Small as it is, the bee has all the vital organs." Stark grimaced and I wonder if I'd done a huge mistake. I hurried to make my point. "That means, all lives matter. And they'll defend themselves with all they got. Your father did what he had to do to protect the people he loved. But he also did more than that. He kept everybody safe. That was the American Dream. What you have here, this power, this influence, this money… it's not so you can impress girls or get your way with anything you want. This is for the greater good. To protect yourself and defend others from evil. We learn to fight so we don't have to, right? And you create weapons so you don't have to use them."

I finished my speech not quite remembering how it had started. I looked at him and Stark held my gaze steadily, impassive. My face flushed and I hoped to god he wouldn't ask me to repeat myself.

"That was very well said." He leaned back on his chair. "I guess you've been paying close attention to my father." My eyes hurt. I was so stupid. Why did I keep bringing up his dead father? What was wrong with me?

"I employ over a forty thousand people," he said, back to business. "I'm responsible for them. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in what we do—what you call the American Dream—twenty thousand people would struggle to pay their mortgage after only a month or two."

I braced myself, shocked by his lack of humility. "I thought you answered to a board."

"I own Stark Enterprise," he said coolly. "I don't answer to anybody."

Oh-oh. I guessed I should've known that. But did he have to be so arrogant? What a total jerk. He was totally going to give me a moral lesson. And he didn't even know what I'd done to get here.

"What, you came in here to tell me how to run my company? You think you can do a better job than me? Than my team? Because you were born in god knows where in the middle of Kansas? Grew up dreaming about the big city? Studied more than your friends, never had time for any fun because you thought you were destined to great things? Should I hire you when you can't even respect something as simple as an alphabetic order?"

Suddenly, I was intimidated by him anymore. I was furious. I was so pissed off I wanted to smack him with a stapler. Who did he think he was? He couldn't talk to me like that. I was so over qualified for that job it was ridiculous. "Okay." I stood up and turned to leave.

His next words made me stop. "What happened to Christine Everhart? She'd never let you take her place for an opportunity like this."

No, she wouldn't have. In fact, she hadn't. What she did do was meet me inside the bathroom and laugh in my face. She told me I was pathetic for bothering to even show up. That Tony Stark would never hire someone who looked like me to follow his every step.

I slowly turned back around to face him. "She left the building," I told him, "after I momentarily blinded her with my pepper spray." Then I remembered something else I wanted to say. What I was forgetting. How I should've started this whole thing. "You know, I want to work here for several reasons. But mostly… he gave an interview in Cottonwood Falls once. 1982. I begged my father to let me go see it. 'Origin doesn't diminish our value or cultural importance. It doesn't make us who we are.' He said that. In god knows where in the middle of Kansas. That's why I left Von Doom to come here."

And then I was stepping into the elevator and smashing the buttons with my fury. The doors were about to close. But he was there, his hand outstretched. The elevator made a warning sound, but Tony Stark held the door open.

"Pepper spray?" he said.

I nodded.

Stark grinned and he the change did something to his face, lightened it all up. It made him look good, at ease. It was so distracting I almost forgot I was so mad. "You're hired, Miss Potts," he said. "I'll see you on Monday." He pulled his hand back and the elevator's door closed before I could process what he'd just said.

Oh my god.

***

In the end, my dream job wasn't very dreamy. Once I got there on Monday, Stark sent me on an expedition to bring him a nonfat mocha latte from a small coffee house three miles from Stark Enterprise. The lines at the shop made me want to kill myself. And then when I came back, Stark told me he had made a mistake and he actually wanted a whole milk mocha latte. He claimed he had tried to call me, which was a lie because I knew for a fact he'd hired me so he'd never have to call anyone ever again.

Not to mention there was a Starbucks on the other side of the street. I could've easily gotten him the same drink, or any other drink, or as many drinks as he wanted, but instead of fighting and getting fired, I sucked it up and walked the three miles again. Each trip took about two hours, mostly because I kept getting lost. By the time I returned the second time, I was exhausted.

When I was ready to leave, Kathy Dare came swinging toward me at the entrance hall. She was very pretty—yes, and blonde—but there was something about her that made me think she wasn't all there. Maybe it was the short pixie cut of her hair. However, she still could make me jealous of the way confidence seemed to ooze out of her.

"Pepper Potts, right?" she said.

I nodded, finally accepting it. The entire day people had called me that. At first, I had tried correcting them, saying that it wasn't my name (I even showed the security guard my ID card) but nobody seemed to care. Stark said my name was Pepper so my name was Pepper.

"Wow, you look awesome," she lied at my face. And she didn't even try to hide her disgust when she saw I was all sweaty. Plus, I was very aware my wardrobe choices were wrong. I was wearing a summer dress which would've been totally acceptable if I were still in Kansas. So not acceptable in New York. But what was I supposed to do? I wasn't swimming in money unlike a certain stupid boss. And even if I was, I doubted he would leave me alone long enough to even go shopping.

"Thanks. You're—"

"Fabulous, I know," she said. "Did you have a good first day? Excited with the new job?"

No, I wasn't excited. I was angry, anxious, ready to punch the face of the next person to piss me off.

"Yeah," I tried to smile. "So excited."

Kathy accepted my answer. "So, we're all going to a bar. Everybody wants you to come with."

I had no idea who 'everybody' was, but I couldn't have cared less. The only place I was going was my bed. "No, thanks. I have stuff to do. Rain check?"

Kathy didn't like that. She seemed to think I should be so honored for being asked to go out with her. Poor soul. She pursed her glossy lips and said, "Word of advice, hon? Try not getting fired on the first week. That'd beat the record."

Okay, thanks, Kathy. And you know what? I was not fired on that first week. No. Stark sent me on several other crazy errands and made obnoxious requests, but I smiled, I was nice to him and I never, ever complained. When the week ended, I thanked God and promised that I wouldn't leave my bed until next Monday.

However, Tony Stark surely hated me. 'Cause he paged me exactly one hundred and fifty seven times until, thinking I'd have an aneurysm, I couldn't take anymore and rushed to his house to see what he wanted. And you know what? He was having trouble finding his car keys. You know, the ones on the coffee table right in front of him.

Then I begged him to excuse me for the rest of the day and he agreed. I got the impression he liked when I begged.

Next day, he was very much busy to waste his time making my life a living hell, so I was free to reply to some of his e-mails. Lemme tell you, it was apocalypse of mail. I hated whoever was his last assistant because she left a mess for me to clean. There were half-read letters and a lot of unanswered letters requesting his presence from hundreds of different organizations.

"So you're the famous Pepper Potts." I didn't know about famous, but found myself agreeing. I turned in my chair in time to see a bulky man staring down at me with warm honey eyes and a happy grin. "I'm Happy Hogan," he told me. That fit him. "Well, Harold, actually. But everybody calls me Happy. Courtesy of Mr. Stark." So I wasn't the only one cursed to answer to a name my mother hadn't given me. Good to know. "It's nice finally meeting you. Everyone's been saying good things about you."

Again, I didn't know who 'everyone' was but I decided it wasn't worth asking.

"Nice to meet you, too."

Happy frowned at the heaping pile of work on my desk. "You look overwhelmed," he pointed out. "Are you finding everything alright?"

"No, every thing's a mess," I confessed. "I'm pretty sure I'll be fired any day now."

Happy shook his head. "He gave you a nickname and he's making sure everybody knows about you," he told me. "You're staying, Pepper Potts. Whether you like it or not."

So Stark liked me? Liked… the work I was doing? Liked to torture me with more meaningless work?

"Just be careful," Happy warned, the smile gone from his large face.

"What do you mean?"

"Just that… Stark has a reputation of what he likes to do with his assistants." Happy brushed the back of his neck as if he was embarrassed. "Actually, with women in general. You know the drill."

I sure did. I knew Stark wasn't locking women down a well in his basement and forcing them to cover themselves with lotion while he watched. No, his vices were different. He couldn't stand the sight of the opposite sex without his stamina levels going berserk. "Don't worry," I said. "I'm not dying to be just another name in Tony Stark's list of conquests."

"Just be careful," insisted Happy, but he looked... well, happier. "He can be very charming." Yeah, thanks. I've noticed. "Anyway, he asked me to tell you he's going to be out until the end of the afternoon. He's asking you to pick up his dry cleaning."

A flush crept up my cheeks. Of course. He purposely asked Happy to tell me this to embarrass me.

"And he also wanted me to tell you that he'd like to meet with you in his office when he comes back." Happy wished me luck and then made his way to the elevator. As Stark's bodyguard it was his duty to follow him everywhere all the time. I pitied the poor man. Nobody deserved that fate.

By the end of the afternoon, I went up to Stark's office with some papers he had asked me to bring him. I hadn't realized I was so distracted by my own problems until I tripped on goddamn nothing and sent his papers flying everywhere. I would also have fallen in my ass if Obadiah Stane, the man who had a say on everything in Stark Enterprise and answered only to Tony himself, hadn't caught me.

Dying of shame, I started apologizing immediately. I fell on my knees and scrambled the floor trying to reassemble the papers. I kept repeating I was sorry. I realized I must've looked utterly ridiculous on all fours in front of these powerful men, but it still offended me when Obadiah asked, "Who's this?" as if he was watching an elephant trying to stand on a ball in the circus.

Stark had something in his hands he wouldn't stop fidgeting with. "Mm, my assistant," he answered with humor in his voice. "She's new. She'll be fine."

I looked up. If it weren't for the smirk on his lips, you'd think he was angry. But it was so much worse. He was amused. I amused him. Me! A streak of anger rushed to my cheeks, setting them on fire.

"Are you laughing at me?" I demanded.

He eyed me with curiosity. What a playboy. I knew he was used to having women on their knees in front of him. Uggh, I hated him for that.

Obadiah Stane answered for him. "Of course not, Miss…?"

"Potts," I said. Obadiah nodded, reached out his hand and helped me up. An awkward silence followed that. I blushed as Obadiah cleared his throat. I handed him the papers. Tony Stark didn't like being handed things.

"Thank you, Miss Potts. I believe that would be all?" And he looked at Stark expectantly.

"No. I need you to do something." Stark paused as if having trouble remembering what he was going to say. I prepared for the worst. "There's our annual gala coming up. I need you to submit the insurance documents for the venue, mail the final check payment, and confirm with their event coordinator for the thirtieth. They wanted on the thirty-first, but I was thinking about going to France that day—which reminds me, you need to book my flight."

"Yes, sir," I said, relieved. At least he didn't fire me. I was ready to leave when I remembered something else. "Oh, uh, Mr. Stark... Mm, I went ahead and accepted your invitation to the East End Orphanage. They asked you to go give a speech to the orphan kids. I saw you were free that night and I thought—"

"No." Stark didn't even look at me, he was still playing with whatever that was in his hands.

"But—"

"And I would prefer if you didn't accept invitations without directly asking me first. While I whole-heartedly support the charity and their mission, I don't even want—"

I snapped. "Well, you're just gonna have to suck it up and be there, won't you? Because I already said you were going. It'd be rude to back out and it wouldn't look good for this company, or your image which, if you don't mind me saying—"

"I do. I do mind."

"—isn't very good at the moment."

Stark studied me for the longest of times. I thought he was going to yell at me. Maybe even fire me now. Instead, he glanced once at Obadiah then said, "You can go now, Miss Potts."

Pff, I was leaving anyway. And if there was a door, I would've slammed it just to prove how much I didn't care about him. Although I absolutely hated job hunting.

The elevator's door closed with me inside. I was getting ready to forget the whole thing when I heard Obadiah's voice.

"She was as red as a pepper."

"That's why I call her that. She's like those peppers that make you choke and burn you down to your stomach so you just can't forget she exists. No matter how much you try. I'm actually scared of her. There isn't much I can do against crazy redheads."

Oh, you should be scared, Tony Stark, I thought to myself, knowing it to be true. I'm coming for you.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer—I don't own any of the characters or any rights to the Marvel Universe.


End file.
